The Silver Shroud Rises
by Veymorak
Summary: Within this mind lurks two men - an old soldier, and the Silver Shroud. Recently, one's been more prominent than the other. And maybe, just maybe, that's what the Common Wealth needs.


NIGHT FELL LIKE A FLACCID PHALLUS, dropping over the Commonwealth like a shroud of shadow that swept away the innocents and brought out the worst in the broken remains of the once wonderful world that humanity now dwelled in. Those that weren't looking for a fight or to get stabbed or eaten by those stronger than them were quick to race after the dusk, seeking shelter and safety all the while aware of the danger that danced in the darkness, flashing like the blade of a knife.

But in a world where there was more bad than good, the galling glow of weakness and the less galling brilliance of innocence was often overshadowed by the blood-red aura of the residents that resided in this new world, bleeding murder and malevolence without care of who saw. The night was not dead and not all was silent, for evil did not sleep and Raiders fought for scraps like dogs, trying to trap and pounce on those that hunted for hiding spots too slowly for their own well being. Screams echoed over the destroyed buildings of the city, lending credit to the lawless nature of the Wasteland.

"Get her, dumbasses!"

This crude command was issued by a raider unlike any other, not clad in rags and rusted armor but rather suave slacks and a surprisingly clean vest and suspenders. He was the one to shout for his similarly dressed underlings to run faster due to his falling behind, sweat running tracks across his dirty face as he huffed and puffed trying to match their pace. Footsteps echoed loudly through the alleyway, bouncing off of the walls as the small squad of snake-like slithering evil doers chased a woman from the street and through the detour that was the dimly lit alley, the tattered hem of her red coat trailing behind her like a tail as she struggled to keep ahead of the thugs that hunted her like hounds through the rain.

"We're tryin', boss!" The distinctly accented voice of one of the thugs called over his shoulder as he excelled where his superior did not, sprinting madly and only a few steps behind the mysterious woman as his Thompson submachine gun bounced up and down over his shoulder, held only by a flimsy strap. "She's so dang fast!"

"Can't keep up?" the woman breathlessly called over her shoulder in a bold and defiant show of disrespect to her devious pursuers. "Maybe you should call it quits then!"

"Maybe… maybe she's right, boss," a different thug said from somewhere in the middle of the convoy as they turned a corner like a demented conga line, panting and stumbling. "I dunno if I can keep goin'...!"

Gunfire erupted from the back of the line as the boss's submachine gun blazed to life, mowing down the now former colleague that he had evidently perceived to be weak before jumping over the body that tumbled, splashing face-down into a puddle. "Then _move!_ Skinny Malone don't take a likin' to no failures. _"_

If anything, this seemed to spur the others to run even faster in an attempt to catch the woman, who still somehow managed to always remain seemingly but one step ahead of the encroaching crime.

It never occurred to them that this broad looked like she was playing them for fools.

Eventually the alleyway widened into the Boston Commons, and even the boss slowed down his furious fight to keep up something fast, his shoes grinding on the asphalt and debris that was littered across the street before he had fully crossed. His gun was raised and aiming in a random direction as his goons did the same post-haste, wary eyes searching the area as the lady in the red coat darted fearlessly into the park.

"Boss…" one of the surviving goons said shakily as they began to back up. Of the five, only the boss did not move an inch, keeping his gun pointed no longer down the street but at the backs of his men. When one of them backed right into the muzzle of his gun, he jabbed it forwards and they stumbled forth without grace. "B-Boss this ain't a good idea no more. Ya don't just walk inta Boston Commons, and definitely not Swan's Pond."

"Swan ain't real, fuck-nut," the boss said, though he sounded unsure and this didn't inspire confidence into his men. The gun pointed at their backs provided enough reason to push on, however, trailing after the woman in red. "Skinny Malone and his knee-cappin' is, though, so keep fuckin' movin', you hear?"

Finally their quest bore fruit as the woman in the red trench coat slid to a stop at the edge of Swan's Pond, seemingly trapped and with nowhere to go due to the way it curved around her on either side. Unless she wished to try her luck and bolt backwards to the left or right, her only option now would be to dive into the pond or just give up; Jackie Sanders, the captain of his little troop of Malone's men, knew the pond was about as fucked as the Glowing Sea; if she went swimming without preparation, she wouldn't be comin' out the way she went in. Maybe with more or less limbs sure, but forever changed for sure.

"Nowhere to run now, tuts," Jackie said, pushing past his men to stand at the front of the group. Now that they had her cornered and no Swan hadn't appeared, they seemed confident enough to not bolt if he wasn't holding them at gunpoint. Grew some fucking spines he guessed. Red turned around to face her chasers, and he whistled when he caught a look at her face – young and pretty, with a cute little press cap and dark hair. Sally would be happy to add this one to her ranks, and Malone would be happy 'cuz Sally was happy, and everyone would get paid. "If you got a piece, I'd suggest ya drop it before I drop you."

"You got a lot tougher when your buddies showed up, Jackie," the woman said, and Jackie flinched as she used his name so casually. Where did she hear his name, he wondered as he leveled his weapon, and her eyes gleamed playfully as she took her cap off and bowed. "Yeah, we know ya, so quit your gaping."

"We?" Jackie looked around, though he didn't take his finger off the trigger and didn't do anything short of keeping the muzzle leveled with her chest. When he turned his gaze back to her, she was no longer smiling so widely, and had put her cap back on as a single boot tapped impatiently on the concrete rim of the pond. He scoffed. "I'm callin' your bluff, broad. You ain't got no one here but yousself."

"I wouldn't say that," she said. Her foot's tapping paused. "Ever heard of the Silver Shroud?"

"... The radio show?" Jackie chuckled. "Yeah, I listened to that shit when I was a kid... What, you waitin' for the Silver Shroud to come to life and save ya?"

"Boss, he ain't just fiction no more," a goon said, almost carefully as if the subject were taboo. He almost sounded frightened. "Guy's a legend. Walked right out of the comic books and iced guys left and right, leaving behind calling cards in Good Neighbor." The man paused, looking annoyed. "But the Silver Shroud ain't here – he works around Good Neighbor. That's what they say, right?"

"She's shittin' us then. Good." Jackie breathed, thankful that his life wasn't about to get any more difficult tonight. Instead he took a menacing step forwards, adjusting his hold on his gun as the gunmen closed in on the pretty woman. "Bluff called. You showed your hand, lady. Now you're comin' with us."

" _The lady stays with me._ "

Jackie Sanders almost shit his pants as a torrent of gunfire erupted from the water, and for a moment he thought Swan had burst forth from the lake like the rumors said he would if you came too close to his pond. Instead, however, all that came were bullets, lighting the world around him up as blood mixed with water and life waned with the moon, and the shadow of death loomed over the losing party of evil that threatened Piper Wright.

Jackie was faster than his goons and dropped to the ground, taking refuge next to the skeletal remains of an unfortunate raider that had thought herself too good to pass up on an opportunity to prove her worth to her cohorts while his own dropped against their will like flies, crimson roses blossoming on their chests as their dinnerware was shredded in a flash of silver death.

"Jackie Sanders," a gravelly voice growled and snarled as a shadowy figure exploded from the pond, his black trench coat slick with rain while muck slid off of his form and he landed beside the woman in red, a silver scarf pulled up over the lower half of his face to conceal his identity. His beaten fedora cast dark shadows over the upper half of his face, but as he looked up two silvery orbs glared from the darkness like the bullets that had shredded his comrades. "Death has come for you, evil doer." The man stood up straight, tearing away the clear plastic that had been wrapped around his weapon to reveal a gleaming silver Thompson submachine gun not completely unlike his own. "And I am it's shroud!"

"Oh god, no, what the hell," Jackie stammered as he tried to lift his weapon, but what could only be a comic book character brought to life by black magic was faster in his stepping forwards and slashing up with his shoe, sending the submachine gun that was clutched in Sander's hands higher than intended, until eventually it splashed into the water of Swan's Pond with a spelunking sound. "Fuck, no! Get away!"

"I won't be getting away and neither will you, you nefarious ne'er do well," the Silver Shroud snarled as Sanders tried to crawl away over the skeleton beside him. He wasn't fast enough, and soon he found himself being hauled to his feet by the psychopath in black like he weighed nothing. "You walked right into our trap, and we caught you dead to rights." Jackie swallowed heavily as he was brought face-to-face with the threatening figure, and his eyes dropped down to the corpses that were scattered at the Silver Shroud's feet. Had he chosen those particular words on purpose? Probably. "Now you will stop gawking and start talking, and I will seal your fate quickly. What's your reason for kidnapping young women? Where do you take them? Talk."

"Best listen to my friend here, Sanders," the woman said with a smirk as she circled the two, carefully weaving between bodies as she mumbled something about being late in the Silver Shroud's direction. "Blue's pretty into this whole justice thing."

"Blue?"

"Silver!" the Shroud shouted shamelessly into the storm, "Silver Shroud! Now talk, evil doer, or death may call a rain check, and you will be left only at the mercy of its shroud!" He shook Jackie hard.

Jackie took a deep breath, his sickly yellow eyes wide as they stared into the Shroud's silver orbs which shone like dollars in the night. His eyebrows were furrowed, but there was a confident look to his eyes and a most evil grin lit his face up better than the lightning ever could. He laughed in the Silver Shroud's face, ignoring the death grip on his tie.

"You can't hurt me," he cackled. Piper frowned, noting the slight foaming and frothing at his mouth. "I work for Skinny fucking Malone. You can't touch me without pissin' him off, and even if you do, I ain't never gonna talk Shroud." He leveled his gaze with that of the man that held him in the air by bunched fist fulls of his vest and tie. "You're crazy, but if you're really the Silver Shroud, you ain't gonna torture me. If you're the Silver Shroud and you want information, we're just gonna have to talk, and you're gonna maybe pay me something handsome, and-"

"You bore me with your madness," the Shroud said, and Jackie Sanders didn't get to finish before he was thrown into the waters of Swan's Pond, skipping slightly across the surface like a stone.

"No, no _no_ _no_!" Jackie screamed as he felt something grab his foot, before being dragged under the surface and disappearing from sight entirely. "Fuck you, Shroud, fuck _yo_ \- _AIIII_!"

The normally greenish water turned red.

 **(!)**

"Brutal work, Blue," Piper tsk'd as she watched the water change colour where Sanders had vanished. Swan was apparently real after all, though this didn't surprise her – she and Nate had tangled with the Super Mutant before, and neither party had left uninjured. Swan was a necessary evil however, so back when Nate was still somewhat Nate they had unanimously agreed that they would leave him alive in the end; he was sort of useful due to the way he stood between Diamond City and several Raider hideouts. "Normally I wouldn't approve. But these guys? They had it coming."

"These men are the scum of the earth, Piper," Nate said, pulling his silver scarf down from over his mouth to reveal a lightly scarred chin. He stuck a cigar between his lips and lit it, before taking a long drag. He tossed her the lighter and she lit one of her own as well – she liked her brand better though. "I don't know what they're doing with those young women, but I don't dare to think they have pure nor noble intentions in mind with each snatching; I fear the worst."

"You and me both, Blue," she said with a puff, sending plumes of bluish smoke up into the rain like steam. It had been almost two months since he had donned the costume for the first time, and Nate had… adapted to fit the standards of his crime fighting persona rather well. His acting had gotten better and now he almost sounded exactly like the real deal; he hadn't dropped the act since he had started though, and it was worrying her a bit. Almost as much as the missing women. "You and me both."

 **O**

 **What if Nate, the sole survivor, got a little too into his role? Well then, at that point he might stop being Nate – maybe he'd become something else.**

 **And so The Silver Shroud rises, and silence will fall.**


End file.
